Shivers
by Ruphira
Summary: It started out a promising day until Gill, having the world's worst luck, draws the last name he wants in Castanet's newest event: Secret Santa. Whose name? Yeah, Angela's. Now gift-hunting, he's forced closer to her daily life than he ever wanted to be.
1. Probability

**A/N: Sooo we kind of did something like this at work, and it sort of gave me a little plot bunny! I think this will probably only be 5 chapters max unless more plot bunnies pop up. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! :)**

**Disclaimer: Didn't own it, don't own it, won't own it.**

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><p>Gill yawned.<p>

Widely.

You see, Gill was bored. And although this was not an unusual phenomenon in itself, it _was _unusual that Gill was bored this early in the day.

It wasn't like Gill woke up bored, you know; it usually took _at least _until noon! But at the rate his father was going, he would be bored to death by—he shook back his sleeve to check his watch—eleven o'clock. (In the morning.)

Kind of unfortunate, actually. He had so much to live for! Like one day becoming mayor of the tiny, spottily populated island known as Castanet. Like maybe putting said tiny, spottily populated island on the map.

Maybe not of the world, maybe just of the area. You had to start somewhere, after all…

"Gilly~!"

Gill cringed, snapping out of his thoughts. Hamilton _knew _he hated that nickname…

"Gilly, get your pretty little head out of the clouds and listen to me! Everyone is here, you silly boy!"

There was giggling. With a heavy sigh through his nose, Gill slowly directed his gaze away from the window (where he was watching the first snowfall of the season) and turned it on his father, who was standing by the door of their house holding an obnoxiously large grey top hat that probably once went with his favourite grey suit.

The blond was fleetingly grateful that Hamilton had the discretion to not wear it after the '70s…

Hamilton cleared his throat and smiled happily at the rest of the people gathered 'round in the small living room—for the first time, Gill noticed that there were a lot of them. _I guess most of them arrived when I wasn't paying attention…_

The rowdy bunch of teenagers quieted, surprisingly, as the round mayor waved his small plump arms and called for order. "Now that Gilly is paying attention…I'm pleased to welcome you all to the first annual Castanet Island "Single Pringle" Secret Santa Event!"

His announcement was met with cheering and applause. Gill sank lower into his seat, brooding.

"I'm thrilled to see the turnout!" Hamilton continued excitedly, unfazed by his son's body language. "As you all probably know, each one of you will select one slip of paper at random from my hat." He gestured at the item grandly and grinned. "Each paper will have a different name written on it, and you will become that person's Secret Santa! Remember, keep it a _secret!" _With this, the rotund mayor raised a finger and held it almost comically to his lips, adding a "_Shhh!" _for effect. The others around him laughed; Gill buried his face in his hands. He was still convinced there was some mix-up at the hospital when he was born and Hamilton was really Luke's father, or _something_.

Then again, only Dale had blue hair like Luke's…

"Now, the event will last for the duration of Winter until the 24th, where the last gift will be given! Remembeeerrrr~," Hamilton warbled happily, "one little-ish gift every week, about 500G-worth, and one big-ish one on the 24th to be opened on the 25th, when everyone's big super-secret Santa's identity will be REVEALED! Now!" With a flourish, he held out the top hat to Maya, who was standing closest to him. "Let the name-choosing ceremony….BEGIN!"

Excited, eager chatter picked up as Hamilton walked around to each "single Pringle" in his ultra-exciting "ceremony". Gasps and giggling erupted as people picked their names; Gill made brief eye contact with Chase, who rolled his eyes and jabbed a finger at Maya. The blond nodded in sympathy and pointed at his father.

Before long, Gill found the top hat under his nose as Hamilton beamed encouragingly at him from behind it. Rolling his eyes, the unimpressed blond stuck a hand inside and pulled out a name. As Hamilton wandered away, he unfurled the crinkled slip in dread to read the name printed inside.

_Chase_.

Chase? ! _Really?_

Relieved, Gill grinned; he couldn't believe his luck! Here he was expecting to get someone completely random that he didn't know _at all_, like Wizard or…or…Angela. Or something. But instead he'd snagged his friend's name! Satisfied, he settled back into his chair and grinned. _Maybe this stupid thing won't be so bad after all. _

"WHOA WHOA WHOA, PSYCH-OUT!" a shout rang out of nowhere.

Gill's eye twitched. That was Luke's voice, and the mayor's son suddenly had a very bad feeling.

"_Extreme_, dude! I picked my OWN NAME!"

"Oooh, gosh darnit, we'll all have to re-pick names now!" Hamilton sang out. Gill's mouth fell open and he watched, speechless, as his father went around and began re-collecting names.

He should have known it was too good to be true as he reluctantly dropped Chase's name back into the hat and glowered at his father's retreating back.

"Name-choosing ceremony…PART TWO!"

The second time, Gill was a little choosier about what he picked. There was a sliver of chance that he could re-pick Chase's name, or maybe Luna's. He sort of knew her, and out of all the girls, she was the one that he was most comfortable with. Deep in thought, he let his hand hover over the hat…

"Pick a name, sonny boy!" Hamilton prompted as the others began to grow restless with waiting.

"Don't call me that," Gill snapped. He grabbed at a random slip and grumbled to himself as his father plodded off. _Who have we here…_

He felt his palms begin to sweat and his stomach drop.

_Angela..? !_

_Noooo…!_

For a few seconds, Gill sat in his seat and silently hyperventilated as he stared at the name printed on the paper. _Angela? _What was he supposed to get for the darned farmer he'd only ever spoken to once? He glanced over at her across the room and narrowed his eyes. She stood with a group of her noisy girlfriends, gossiping and giggling and basically being annoying. He frowned; she'd probably be getting scented candles.

Yes. A lot of scented candles…

"WHOA, UNREAL GUYS!" hollered Luke suddenly. As everyone groaned irritably, Gill felt a fragile hope bloom. Maybe there'd be another recall…?

"I got my own name again! How EXTREME…."

"…ly unlikely," the blond muttered under his breath—although, for once, he was partly grateful to the spastic blue-haired carpenter. He dropped Angela's name like a rock back into the hat as it passed. _Dodged that bullet…_

By the time the hat came around for the third time, Gill was pretty indifferent to his fate. He'd already got the best choice and the worst one, so all that remained in the sea of probability were the waves of in-the-middle people that he kinda-sorta-not-really knew, but could fake it well enough. So he stuffed his hand inside, flashed his father a really phony smile, and waited for him to toddle off before reading the name.

Crinkle, crinkle…

_No way._

His stomach dropped and his eyes widened and his palms broke out in a sweat and his ears burned—it could only mean one thing:

_Angela AGAIN?_

_It's okay, it's fine. Luke will probably draw himself again, _he told himself reassuringly, glancing up hopefully at the carpenter as he drew a name. But to his horror, Luke read the name, stuck his tongue out, and punched a fist in the air shouting,

"_Slick!"_

The disheartened blond slumped in his seat. Apparently, he'd used up his supply of miracles for the day…

"Attention, everyone!"

Gill's mouth drew into a line. Hamilton stood at the front by the door again and was gesturing wildly with the now-empty top hat, beaming beatifically.

"I thank you all for your wonderful participation in this brand new event! Remember: buy your target one 500G gift per week until the 24th! It can be anything, anything! You can try to give them hints as to who you are, or just buy regular things for them. Whatever you want! In any case, I hope that this event is successful and finds a home on our annual calendars. Without further ado…let the First Annual Castanet Island "Single Pringle" Secret Santa Event…..BEGIN!"

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><p><strong>AN: He means let Gill's misery begin...:} so, what'd you think? I'd be happy to take concrit if you'd like to offer any. Thanks for reading, hope to see you next chapter! :D**


	2. Susceptibility

**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for all the interest for last chapter, I'm glad I'm not just writing this for myself. Hopefully the updates will be pretty regular (I know, a shocker to any of you who are familiar with my updating habits! :P) because I wanna finish this before Christmas. Who wants to read a Secret Santa fic after the big day, anyway?**

**Hope you enjoy! I'm trying a sort of new-to-me writing style here. Please let me know if you find it too pretentious! ^^;**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harvest Moon.**

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><p>"So like…I've been really into this AWESOME series lately! It's EPIC, there's wizards going <em>pew pew <em>all over the place and epic battles, and a big bad guy that everyone wants dead, they're all like, '_Oh no he's coming back we all gonna diiiieeee!' _and the main hero's like—"

"Luke. LUKE."

"SHHH, Gill! I'm not DONE yet! Anyway—"

"Luke, _please_. I know what series you're talking about and you're not even doing it justice. There's more to Harry Potter than wizards going _pew pew _all over the place." His fingers numb with cold, Gill frowned and stuffed a stubborn letter into Mira's mailbox. Why didn't these things just _fit_?

The blue-haired carpenter at his side flailed his arms in frustration at Gill. "_More? _Heck yeah there's more! There's hot British chicks and evil teachers and MAGIC SPELLS! Real wizard-y stuff, not like Wizard here does! It's extreme, every time I finish one, Selena brings me the next! There must be like a _gazillion. _There's even this stuff called Gillyweed in it, it made Harry breathe underwater! Hehehe, you're a weed. Hey Gill, do you think Gillyweed really exists? !"

Gill exhaled and watched his breath-cloud drift lazily away as he stepped away from the jeweler's door and shuffled down to the blacksmith's. Luke followed. "No, Luke, I don't." Then he blinked. "Hang on, hot British chicks? How could you _see_ them in the books?" Was Luke kookier than Gill thought? (…Was that even possible?)

The axman stared Gill down, now walking alongside him. "Books? What? Naw man! I'm talking about the movies!"

Stopping in front of Ramsay's, Gill just rolled his eyes and didn't bother to comment. _Of course, duh. _

"So…" Shivering, Luke stuffed his fingerless-gloved hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "_Soooooo_…"

"So _what_?" Gill snapped irritably, shoving another reluctant letter into a too-small, frozen mailbox. He _hated _mail day, and it didn't help that Luke always trailed behind him like a sad, lost, blue puppy whenever he was forced to deliver stuff to the Garmon Mine District.

"So….WHO DID YOU GET FOR SECRET SANTA?"

"Ughh! Luke, don't you have freakin' Christmas trees to chop to death or something?"

"Nope." His companion looked a little disheartened as he poked at a hole in the boarded platform with the toe of his boot. "Pops says they'll dry out if we chop them too soon. I have to _wait._" At the last word, the carpenter heaved a heavy, sorrowful sigh.

Gill rolled his eyes again. "Typical," he muttered to himself, stepping down off the raised wooden deck to the snowy ground—hoping Luke would tire of the topic. Or forget…

No such luck. "SOOO? Who'd you get?" Luke asked in a singsong voice as he poked the irritated blond with a finger.

"Luke, I'm busy! Stuff to do…" Gill grumbled, swatting at his hand. "And don't _poke _me, how old are you? Seven?"

"Seven plus…!" Luke paused thoughtfully. Gill groaned and continued walking, only to have the undesired tagalong catch up and poke him. Again. "Seven plus fourteen!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Sooo?" he prodded, poking him. _Again_.

"Oh my _Goddess_—if I tell you will you leave me alone?"

Luke seemed to consider it. "Eh….sure."

"Fine." Gill shuffled past the carpenter's, stuffing his hands under his arms for warmth and gritting his teeth. "I have _Angela._"

The moment the cerulean-haired axman's golden eyes lit up with glee, Gill knew that if he could reach out and grab the sentence to quickly swallow it back up again, he should.

But he couldn't.

"Aaaaaangeeeellllaaaaa?" Luke drawled, sounding smug. At this point, Gill had reached the rope-and-plank bridge connecting Garmon Mine to Angela's farmland and was beginning to ease himself tentatively across; Luke, on the other hand, sauntered carelessly after him, causing the entire structure to swing unnervingly. "You got _Aaaaanngeeeellllllllaaaaaa_?"

Gripping the rope with white-knuckled fists, the blond answered through a clenched jaw. "_Yes, Luke. _Why are you still following me? And knock that off! Don't you see how flimsy this thing is? !"

Luke only snickered. "Hehehe, you got Angela! That's hilarious."

"Fine." Gill took another few careful steps and felt his stomach drop at the swaying Luke caused. "Stop—stop _moving!"_

Luke froze mid-step. "Like…this?"

Gill turned around to glance at his still form, and almost laughed out loud at his own brilliance. The simple command actually worked! Maybe he was onto something by comparing Luke to a blue puppy. "Yes! Just like that. Don't move."

"For how long?"

Gill didn't answer, but the carpenter remained still and grinned at the blond's back as he made his way painstakingly across the bridge. "Why don't you just use the mining cart, man? It's sick! Gets you back home way faster too!"

"No—_reason_," Gill breathed, keeping his eyes trained on the solid land across the gaping chasm of death he was currently crossing.

Luke, surprisingly, let it go. Examining his fingernails, he asked, "Don't you wanna know who _I _got?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." Gill stared stubbornly ahead at the far end of the bridge; his goal.

"Well, I'm not telling you! It's _Secret Santa! _Ahahaha, I know who yoooouuu haaaave…"

Finally, _finally_, Gill set foot on solid ground on the far side of the bridge. He turned around to glare at the smirking man still reclining on the rope railing and readjusted his bag on his shoulder. "Whatever, Luke."

"Ahahaha…" the other man wiped away a fake tear from under his eye. "Catch'a later, Blondie."

"What_ever_, Luke!" The mayor's son stomped irritably down the mountain path, fuming. Although he didn't show it, his pride was sorely wounded that he'd stupidly revealed his Secret Santa to someone who wouldn't tell him his.

And _yes, _he knew it was childish! That only made it more annoying. That whole incident, coupled with what he knew he had to do next, put Gill in a really sour mood.

No mood to go knocking at a young farmer girl's door, in any case.

.::.::::.::.

The smell of it hit him before he got there.

And even though he wrinkled his nose at it on impulse, he had to admit to himself—in the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind—that it wasn't _really _an _entirely _bad smell. It kind of smelled like earth mixed with wind, rain and cold, and some churned-up plant matter. And tomatoes…

_Tomatoes? It's winter._

Actually, in general, Farm-smell was a lot like Angela-smell. Gill decided this as he tromped indelicately through the snowy field up to her door, stopping on the doorstep and shifting awkwardly.

Was she home? He peeked into a window, only to find that the threadbare, complementary purple curtains had been drawn. _She still hasn't replaced those yet? It's been almost a year. _

Suddenly curious, the blond took a few steps back to get a full view of the house, roof-to-foundation. The wood was warped in places; shingles were still loose and splitting. He noticed a splintered windowsill had been sloppily patched with duct tape, and the paint on the old door was cracking and flaking onto the doorstep.

The young man's smooth brow creased in puzzlement as he scrutinized the farmhouse. His father had told him that she was doing exceptionally well! So why didn't her home, of all things, reflect that? Wouldn't the _first _thing you do be to fix up your own place? That would be the first thing Gill would have done…

Pulling his sleeve over his hand, his raised his fist and knocked firmly—but not too hard—on the door. (He didn't want it to shatter or anything! It looked like it might at any moment.)

Then, he waited.

And waited.

Sighing irritably, he shuffled from foot to foot and glanced over his shoulder at the field behind him. It was partially blanketed in snow, save for one small patch near the back where buckwheat grew abundantly. A line of dormant cherry trees guarded the far side of the field, and Gill noticed for the first time that from her property, Angela had a _spectacular _view of the ocean.

He wondered if she ever stood here and admired it.

"Uhhrr…Hi, Gill, can I help you?"

Her sudden voice startled him, and he jerked slightly where he stood before snapping his gaze away from the ocean and towards her. "AH! Uhh…Angela. Hello…"

She stood out in front of her barn, staring him down with her big brown eyes. Tufts of chestnut hair poked out from under her knit cap, and as she clutched the lead rope of her pale golden yearling, she turned the collar of her light green coat up against the wind. The half-grown horse tugged at her hold and snorted clouds of moisture into the air while she smiled uncertainly at her guest.

"Hi," she said again, half-smiling. "Um…was there something you needed?"

"Yes. Err—no. Well…I mean, this is for you." Gill looked downwards to dig through his satchel, biting down furiously on his lip. He'd never exactly had a silver tongue, but this was getting ridiculous! "I guess—someone—er, your secret Santa, wanted this delivered. So uh…here." He thrust out the plainly wrapped package towards her.

"Oh, nice!" Angela grinned, her face brightening. She happily took the delivery from him and turned it over before giving it a good shake. "I wonder what it is? Having it delivered was a good idea….makes it easier to get it to the person unseen. Cool. Well…thanks, Gill." He nodded stiffly and watched as she unclipped the rope from the yearling's halter. "I just have to bring a few more animals out and then I was gonna go in. It's frigid out here! Did you wanna stay for hot chocolate or anything?"

"Um…no. I should go." The blond man clipped up his shoulder bag and stepped off the threshold.

"Oh, sure. See you around," she chirruped, hugging the parcel to her chest.

"Yeah, 'bye." Gill retied the scarf at his neck and began to shuffle stiffly away; behind him, Angela wandered back into her barn. He glanced over at her over his shoulder as she did, and when his eyes fell on the barn, he realized something.

Her barn…was gorgeous. It was immaculately kept and in pristine condition, with nary a chipping paint job or warped board to be seen. And if he wasn't mistaken—it was fully upgraded, too.

The same could be said for the neat little coop beside it. If he understood it correctly, building and upgrading these facilities was horrendously expensive and work-intensive. _So that's where all her money is going—to her animals?_

He glanced back at her house, which looked even more shoddy and forlorn in comparison to its shining neighbours. _Yet she lives in THAT?_

Well...not his problem! She must have been happy with it. Chewing the inside of his lip, Gill continued on his way to Harmonica Town. Mission accomplished with minimal damage.

Now, there were papers to file.

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><p><strong>AN: Sorry if any Luke fans are offended, I'm not trying to portray him badly; I'm just trying to sort of write him from Gill's perspective. ^^ I have nothing against him! Anyway, so yeah. Thanks for reading! :)**


	3. Vulnerability

**A/N: Okay, so I failed. Big time. NOT even CLOSE to being finished before Christmas, and I'm really sorry about that! Does anybody still want to read this after the big day? I hope so, so I'll try to finish it in good time, still. ****Sorry, again!**

**Thank you for all your lovely reviews, favourites, and alerts!:D**

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><p>"The regular?"<p>

"Yep. Tomato."

"Cocktail? On the rocks? Margarita? Tomato daiquiri?" The strawberry-blond bartender rested his elbows on the counter to stare down his friend, straight-faced, and adopted a cheesy working-class British accent. "Moight Ah int'rest yuh in some of me fine toma'ah ale, mate?"

"Tomato _juice._"

Chase exhaled, blowing aside strands of his peachy bangs as he straightened. "Goddess, Gill, you're so boring. Juice, juice, juice. _Tomato _juice, no less. Did you know you're the only one who orders it, out of this entire humungous metropolis of some two-dozen people? Jeez. Serving someone plain tomato juice offends my tastes…." He paused, mid-turn, and smirked. "Pun intended."

Gill yawned widely in the bartender's general direction, not at all miffed at the insult. "Yeah yeah yeah, so you've told me. Now get back to work."

Grabbing a half-full jug out of the small cooler, Chase tossed a question over his shoulder at Gill. "So how's this secret Santa business going, huh? Suck as much as you thought?"

"Mmnh," the icy, blue-eyed blond grumbled. "Pretty much, yeah. You?"

"It's alright." Chase tossed the contents of the jug into a blender and turned to face his friend, one hand resting on the kitchen counter and the other on his hip. "Got someone I sort of know. Who'd you get, anyway?"

Gill narrowed his eyes—no way was he falling for _that _again! "It's a secret…"

A thin, strawberry-blond eyebrow was quirked at him. "Gill. How old are we? Let's count on our fingers….oh wait, those only go up to ten. Are we older than ten?"

Gill glared. Chase continued, smirking and gaining momentum.

"Why yes, yes we are, Gill! I guess we'll have to continue counting on our toes. And when we run out of toes we can use other people's fingers!"

The mayor's son, unimpressed, rested his chin in his hand. "Shut up, Violet."

"Shut up, Blondie," Chase tossed back, narrowing his traitorous purple eyes. "But seriously. Who did you get?"

Once bitten, twice shy! Gill leaned forward on the counter. "Tell me who _you _got first."

Chase sighed dramatically but wandered back to his friend, eyes darting suspiciously back and forth at the filled tables behind them. Once he judged it safe he bent down again to Gill's level and murmured, "I got Kathy. Now will you tell me?"

"Angela," Gill confessed, tragically. The blender dinged and Chase turned away to deal with it.

"Wow, you sound like the name mortally wounds you to say." The bartender glanced back at his friend. "Get anything for her yet?"

Gill shrugged. "Candles."

"Scented?"

"Yep."

"Ah, the classic I-don't-know-what-else-to-get-her emergency girl gift. Okay, there's your _tomato juice_," Chase announced, sliding the drink down the counter to the blond bar-style. "You know, even _she's _a harder drinker than you are. Man, you're like a wet noodle…"

"She?" Gill asked. He stirred the juice using the little umbrella Chase had snidely added to the glass. "Kathy?"

"No! Angela. Comes in every now and then."

The mayor's son perked up, smelling a potential gifting opportunity. "Really? Does she have a favourite? What is it? I'll take 500G of it. No! 1000G. _Tell me_!"

"Whoa, man, keep your shirt on! I don't want to tell you her favourite—she'll think _I'm _her secret Santa! Or that I know who he is! Which I do, but I don't want her harassing me!"

"Or maybe you'll get lucky and she'll just think she has a creepy stalker Santa who watches her partake of this favourite drink every single time she comes here…." Gill mused as he stared into his juice. Chase snorted.

"Yeah, whatever. You know what, I'll give you a hint." He rested his elbows on the counter and tilted his head at his friend. "Luke."

"Luke?" Gill repeated, raising an eyebrow. Then panic overtook him. "Oh Goddess, don't make me ask Lu—"

"No, man," Chase interrupted, rolling his light amethyst eyes before continuing with a smirk. "You're really tense, dude. Why is this Secret Santa stuff bugging you so much, huh?"

Gill grumbled something under his breath and shrugged off the cook's questions. "Whatever. What about Luke then?"

"Well…think about what he likes to eat, and Angela likes that kind of drink."

Horror filled the blond's eyes. "A…MAYONNAISE MARGARITA?" he burst out, his voice echoing loudly across the room. "There is NO WAY I am funding a nasty habit like that!"

The murmur of casual chatter behind him stopped. Silence descended over the entire bar, and Gill realized that everyone else had stopped what they were doing to stare at him. Until….

"Mayonnaise margarita? ! OhmahGawdess, That sounds EXTREME! _When's it gonna be on the menu, Chase-man?"_

"Never, Luke," the cook snapped back, before turning to lightly smack his friend on the top of the head. "Geez, Gill! What the crap is going through your head? Are you _crazy_?"

Gill glared back. "You said food Luke likes! All the man eats is mayonnaise. I've seen him spoon the stuff out of a jar and eat it plain!"

Chase rolled his eyes again. "Uuuugh, think broader!" He paused. "Mayonnaise margarita…some might say you are _bananas_."

Gill's mouth opened to shoot back a defensive remark, but it slowly closed as he realized the enormous hint that Chase had just given him. "Oh." _Bananas…_

"Yeah, oh."

"…Where do you get bananas?"

"Gill!" Chase exclaimed, annoyed, as he began wiping down the counter. "Would you like me to wrap the present too, and sign your name on it?"

The mayor's son sank lower onto the counter, resting his chin on his arms. "I'm desperate! You gotta help me out!"

"Think about it! _Hmmm, where is somewhere tropical this time of year?_"

"Nowhere," Gill grumbled, closing his eyes. Next thing he knew, a wet cloth had been tossed at his face. "Gaarrghh!"

Chase watched, arms crossed and smiling amusedly, as his friend clawed at the cloth like a thing feral. "Closer than you think, bud. In fact…you can buy a ticket to paradise."

"Only to Toucan Island, here," snapped Gill, whipping the cloth back at Chase. Then, he blinked. "Ohhh…Toucan Island…."

"Yeeeaahhhh. You're a genius, bud."

Gill decided to ignore the strawberry-blond's latest dig and hopped off his stool, making a beeline to the door. "Thanks, see ya around!"

Chase shook his head slowly and continued wiping down the counter.

.:::.::::.:::.

Gill hated sweating.

Summer was almost unbearable to him; Fall was his favourite season, with its crisp wind and clear skies, but not-yet-frigid temperatures. Spring was a little too much on the balmy side for his liking…

…and that went for Toucan Island as well.

He'd ditched his coat and hat back on the beach when he'd first arrived, but he was still sweating in his creased white dress pants, shirt, and vest, and grumbling incoherently under his breath as he dug through the lush underbrush for fallen bananas.

…Because the Inn wouldn't sell him any. "Oh!" they'd cried happily—joyfully, even, "No no no—you can forage the freshest ones yourself right under the sun!"

Yeah, well, Gill didn't care about freshness, and Gill didn't care for the sun. He preferred to just fork over cash and have the sweaty work done for him. But _noooo…_

Why was he even doing this? He didn't even _like _Angela! Angela, the doe-eyed farmer that everyone was…bananas…over. Saving the Island, talking to the Harvest Goddess and all that crap. What about everything _Gill _had done to try to save his Island? He'd left for years to research a cure, for crying out loud, but does he get any recognition? Nope, just a pat on the back from dear old dad when he returns and an order to "go see the new girl, she's rescuing the Island". It drove him bananas!

"Stop thinking about bananas!" he ordered himself, growing frustrated that he couldn't find any.

"Bananas?" a voice called. Gill nearly jumped out of his skin, but instead settled for tripping spectacularly over a root and falling on his face to a loud crescendo of crackling, crunching undergrowth—managing to get a mouthful of leaves in the process.

Pounding footsteps approached—he could hear them clearly through the crushing of plant matter—until he felt a cool shadow cross over his face.

"Uh…um—Gill? Are you okay?"

Oh no.

It couldn't be. His luck had never been _this _bad. He scrunched his eyes closed and fervently prayed it was all a bad dream; a product of his sloppy sun-fried brain coupled with his slightly dazed thought pattern. It had to be! But _darn_, did that sound like Angela…

Hands gripped his forearms, forcing him over onto his back, and then cool fingers brushed aside his bangs. "Oh Goddess, are you alright?"

Gill spat out a leaf or two and dragged a hand across his mouth, frowning. Gross! Salads were one thing, but a Tossed Undergrowth Special—dry—was something completely different.

And it just _had _to be Angela there to save the day, didn't it?

"_Gill?_" the voice persisted.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he finally growled in reply, sitting up and squinting into the leafy canopy of the forest looming above them. The sun burned through gaps in the foliage into his eyes, making it difficult to make out the darkened silhouette kneeling beside him.

"Oh." The silhouette sat back, nervously ran a hand through its short, flippy hair. "Um, that's good! Do you, er, need a hand or anything…?"

He rubbed his eyes and blinked several times before his pupils finally adjusted to the strange lighting. Sure enough, at his side knelt Angela, her head tilted slightly to the side and eyebrows quirked in puzzlement at him as she awaited his answer.

_Oh…right…she asked me a question. _"No. Er, thanks, I'm fine." The blond struggled to his feet and dusted his crisp white pants off, frowning at the dark stains at his knees. _Great, mud stains. My faaaavvoooourite._

"Oh. Um…okay, cool." She also got to her feet and brushed off her well-worn jeans. "So….I haven't seen you around here before! What, um, brings you here?"

"Bananas," he blurted out before he could pause to think. Just as abruptly, he clamped a hand over his own mouth—and blushed tomato-red at how stupid he knew he looked. Angela, thankfully, only pursed her lips slightly and glanced away, likely also embarrassed by him.

"Ah! Bananas. That's—a good reason," she chirped helplessly.

Gill took a step forward, inwardly cursing himself. Where the heck was he now? "Yep," he agreed, shortly; also having nothing much to say to her. His stomach dipped as she stepped after him.

"Would you like some help?"

"I'm _just _looking for bananas," he snapped, biting back the '_and I don't need your help' _he so desperately wanted to add. Couldn't she just leave and go on her farmer-y business? She must have more important, island-saving things to do than crawl around on her hands and knees helping him look for bananas.

"I know," she replied, falling into step beside him and setting her jaw stubbornly. "And you're probably quite capable of doing so, but I only offered because I think I might have already cleared the area of fallen bananas."

Gill froze mid-step. "All the bananas…?"

"All the bananas."

_Whhyyyyy me? _the blond whined internally, feeling a drop of sweat running lazily down the back of his neck. He was hot, he was sweaty, his pants were muddy, he was _lost, _and _Angela had stolen all the bananas!_

Also, she wouldn't leave!

He must have looked disturbingly distressed because Angela leaned into his face, eyes wide with concern, and with a hand resting tentatively on his arm asked, "Uh…Gill? Are you okay?"

Gill stepped back, feeling hotter than ever, and tugged on his slightly damp collar. "Yeah, fine," he grumbled grouchily. "Can you just show me how to get off this wretched island?"

To his surprise, she laughed—a light, tinkling sound. "Well, I could tell you weren't enjoying yourself, but I didn't realize you hated it here _that _much." The farmer took a few steps in the opposite direction from where Gill was facing and, smiling, gestured for him to follow her.

Hating relying on her more with every step, Gill reluctantly crunched through the small, overgrown jungle with distinctly less grace than the girl in front of him. Where she pushed aside fronds, he was smacked in the face; where she sidled between bushes, he crashed loudly through them, and where she stepped carefully over roots, he was snagged and caught and pulled at.

After what seemed to Gill like several summers later, they finally emerged from the lush greenery and onto a long, golden stretch of sandy beach. For several moments Gill just stood there, listening to the lulling whisper of the waves across the sand and soaking in the crisp sea breeze. It felt so good weaving its way through his sweaty hair, and the salty smell of the water was calming.

"That sounded happy," Angela remarked beside him. He jumped slightly, having almost forgotten she was there, then turned to look at her with narrowed eyes.

"What did?"

"You. You sighed."

"I did?" Gill genuinely hadn't realized it. Angela nodded, crossing her arms and looking out over the water.

"You like the sea, huh?"

"I…guess so." He scuffed his shoe into the golden grains at his feet as he felt his next comment rising up through his throat. "You…must have a nice view of it at your ranch."

Angela brightened at that. "Yeah! I do. Sometimes, when I can't sleep at night, I just go out and stand by my fence at the edge of my farm and just look over it." She smiled at the thought. "That probably sounds kind of weird."

Gill was caught on something else. "When _you _can't sleep?" he repeated incredulously. Bubbly, happy-go-lucky Angela? "Why would _you _have trouble sleeping?"

He heard her huff slightly beside him and adjust her large rucksack. "I have a lot of things on my mind, you know."

"Right." So did he. Maybe there was more to her than he gave her credit for.

They stood in silence until Angela took another step forward, running a hand through her hair.

"Well….we should get back, I guess. Pascal will be looking for us—the sun is starting to set." She pointed out across the water to the horizon, where the sinking sun was staining the water majestic shades of gold, blushing orange and pink. Cotton candy-like clouds hung above, tie-dyed in the wash of vibrant colours.

"Yeah," Gill agreed quietly, and followed her down the beach to the waiting ferry.

.::.::::.::.

Night had fallen by the time they reached Harmonica Town. Gill, shivering and breathing in sharp lungfuls of winter air, could barely believe that earlier that day he'd been peeling his sweaty hair off the nape of his neck and cursing the blazing sun.

Angela stepped off the ferry beside him and shivered in her beaten-up brown jacket. "W-whew," she exhaled, her teeth chattering, "w-what a d-difference!"

"R-Rather have it l-like this th-than tha-at," Gill replied. He wrapped his coat more tightly around his form and gave her a hand off the ramp. "L-Like the c-cold."

"Reall-lly?" she asked. "I l-l-looove the h-heat."

The mayor's son raised an eyebrow at her as she hugged herself, trying to glean as much warmth as humanly possible from the brown windbreaker. She obviously needed a new coat.

Suddenly, gift ideas were becoming _much _easier to come up with. Maybe all he needed to do was get to know her a little better…

…And the thought didn't even repulse him anymore. Angela, it turned out, could be bearable. So what he didn't get any bananas? He'd find something else!

"Oh, one more thing, before I go." The farmer turned to him and began rooting around in her rucksack. "I feel bad about stealing all the bananas; I guess I thought it didn't matter since I'm practically the only one who goes there, but it's the wrong way to think. It's nature's bounty! Here." Smiling, her cheeks flushed with the cold, Angela pressed a bunch of bright yellow bananas into Gill's hand.

Dumbly, he blinked back at her. "Oh…Oh! Right, bananas. Uh…" How could he tell her he didn't need them anymore? No, she'd just ask questions…but he could hardly give them back to her as a Secret Santa gift now. He stared down at them, cradled between his two hands. "Um…thank you."

"No problem. Well, I'll see you around later, then?"

Gill stared back into her earnest face. It was a pointed question—she actually _wanted _to? And then, before he could think: "Yeah. For sure."

Wait, wait. What was _he _saying? He actually wanted to, too?

"Great!" the brunette grinned. "Well, 'bye!"

His hands curled around the yellow fruit as he stood in the snow and watched her walk away. Something buried deep inside him was stirring, and it didn't want her to go just yet.

"Ey, man! What're you doing out here in the cold?"

Chase was standing out in front of the bar, waving a tea towel at him. When Gill just looked back at him, dazed, the peach-haired cook let out a gusty sigh and marched out across the plaza to drag his friend into the warm, dry inn.

Once inside, he pushed the blond onto his usual stool and draped the tea towel over his head before standing behind the counter and staring at him, unimpressed, with both hands on his hips.

Gill blinked.

"Ah, he lives," Chase drawled sarcastically. "Dry yourself off, man."

Slowly, Gill rubbed the towel over his hair and then dropped it back on the counter. The cook swept it up in one fluid movement and leaned across to look his friend in the eye.

"Gill."

"Chase."

"I'm gonna say this slowly, so that you reeeaallly understand me. Ready?"

"Uh…." Gill blinked again. "Yeah….?"

"Okay, here it is: You. Look. Like. You. Just. Got. Hit. By. A. Car."

Gill narrowed his eyes. "What? No, I don't. Shut up."

"Someone had to say it. Well, at least it looks like you got bananas…" Chase turned away, setting up the ingredients for the tomato juice his friend hadn't ordered yet, but quickly spun around to face the blond when he collapsed onto the counter with a groan. "What's up, man?"

"I can't give them to heeerrrr…."

"What? Why not?"

"_She _gave them to _me_."

All Chase could do was laugh.


	4. Imperceptibility

Gill turned his collar up against the harsh wind as it whistled by, biting into the exposed skin of his neck and face, and stepped briskly up the stairs from the dock. It was stupid, he knew, to venture outside in this kind of snowy weather just to look at the thrashing waves in the sea, but he hadn't seen it in days, and—

"Gill!"

The blond froze mid-step as the wind whipped the material of his pants around his legs, squinting through the white flurry at the bent-over figure staggering over to him.

"Angela?"

She stopped in front of him and grinned. "Hi! Funny seeing you out and about on a day like this!"

"Why?" Mentally, he smacked himself on the forehead. _Why? Oh, no reason. It's a beautiful day, isn't it? _

"Because you normally like to sequester yourself indoors on a good day," came Angela's dry reply. In spite of the weather, Gill suddenly felt very warm—and annoyed.

"Yeah, well, maybe I just felt like coming out," he retorted shortly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Goddess, it was still cold. If it wasn't for his new insulated, heavy duty-coat…

Angela's hands flew up defensively. "Hey, I never said you _shouldn't _come out. Weather like this is glorious in its own way, and would you look at the sea?" She gestured out over the rail at the roiling waters.

Gill nodded. "I know, that's what I was looking at, actually." He eyed her brown windbreaker critically; it was the same poor excuse for a jacket he'd seen her in before. "Don't you have anything warmer to wear?"

"Don't you think I'd be wearing it if I had?" she shot back.

Well…duh. Gill hated feeling stupid. "Why don't you _buy_ something warmer then? It's winter!"

She shrugged and hugged herself. "It's just a coat, and I have other priorities for what I do with time and money. Since when did you care whether I freeze to death or not, anyway?"

The blond's nostrils flared as his throat suddenly went dry and he found himself wondering the same question. A beat passed in silence. "Since you gave me bananas, obviously," he grumbled, hoping to alleviate the awkward tension.

"Oh, obviously," Angela laughed.

Gill exhaled inaudibly. "So—"

"So, um, speaking of priorities, I have a few things to go do now," the brunette interrupted, sidestepping him. "I'll catch you later!"

Well…_that_ went well.

Wait a second. Who cared, anyway?

.:.:::.:.

"Ah, good, Gill—you're home!"

Hamilton's overly bright and cheerful tone caused the blond man to pause in the middle of stomping the snow from his meticulously laced boots onto the mat and glance up suspiciously.

"Yes…" he answered slowly, closing the door behind him and wondering what all the excitement was about. The bulbous mayor clasped his hands together gleefully and cracked a wide, goofy smile.

"Yooouuu got a preeeeseeeeeennnnttt~" Hamilton sang delightedly, dancing slightly on the spot.

Gill rolled his eyes. In his own Secret Santa panic, he'd forgotten that there was someone out there buying presents for _him_. "Oh. I see."

Hamilton trailed behind his son eagerly, hands still clasped, as he draped his coat over a hook and collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table. "Well?" he prompted as Gill continued to ignore him. "Aren'tcha gonna open it?"

Gill shrugged and picked up a discarded mainland newspaper splayed across the table. "Meh."

His son's indifference beginning to fray at his nerves, Hamilton poked the boy in the shoulder. "Gilbert Gilligan Dwight Rochester Hamilton!"

"_What?_" Gill could practically feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up in righteous defiance of his despised full name.

"Open your present! What if it's from a _girl?_"

Gill scoffed loudly. "So _what _if it's from a girl? Father, _really! _Do you even understand the mechanics of your own festival? Even if it _is _from a _girl_, then it's only from her because she picked my name _at random_. It. Means. NOTHING."

Hamilton groaned loudly in exasperation. Sometimes, he really felt like he and his son were on completely different pages. "Gilly, don't you think it's about time to have me some grandbabies?"

"_NO_, I absolutely do _not!_"

The rotund mayor threw his arms up in the air in defeat and waddled irritably into his room, grumbling something under his breath. Gill snorted in annoyance, straightened out the newspaper, and—glanced over to see a very poorly wrapped rectangular box sitting on the chair across from him.

He glanced to the left and to the right, then stole a peek over his shoulder to make sure his father wasn't about to come blasting suddenly out of his room again. When he judged it safe, Gill reached over across the table and grabbed the gift.

Once it was in his hands, the blond inspected it carefully and weighed it in his hands. One thing was for sure—it wasn't from a girl. He'd never met a girl who wrapped anything this badly; corners of the box poked through the orange paper, which was crinkled and clumsily taped, and someone had tried to wrap a clashing bright blue ribbon around the object to hide places where the wrapping had torn.

Sighing, Gill tugged the ribbon off and tore into the paper to reveal a slightly soggy, plain white box. He popped the flaps at the top and reached inside…grasped the cap of a bottle (wine perhaps?)…pulled it out…and…

"Mayonnaise?" he demanded aloud, staring in disbelief at the bottle of viscous white spread in his hands. "_Mayonnaise?_"

Who in their right mind would wrap up a bottle of _mayonnaise_ and give it away? Just then, Hamilton's head popped out of his room to grin happily out into the kitchen.

"Aha! I knew you wouldn't be able to resist~" he warbled. His thin grey eyebrows then drew together in puzzlement at the bottle of mayo in his son's hands. "Um…what's that, Gill?"

"…Mayonnaise."

"You got…mayonnaise…from your Secret Santa."

"Yes…"

"Well—" the mayor's face suddenly brightened. "Well! Maybe it's from Angela's farm." And with that, he retreated back into his room and closed the door behind him.

_Yeah, right_, Gill thought cynically. In spite of himself he turned the bottle over in his hands, searching for a label—until he spotted a miniscule tag printed on the bottom of the bottle.

_Made from only the freshest ingredients on Haven Farm, Castanet._

.:.:::.:.

Whistling, Luke was cheerfully hauling an enormous cedar tree through the snow outside the carpentry. He'd lugged it all the way from where he had chopped it in Fugue Forest. It had taken him most of the afternoon to do, but when he'd seen it for the first time in the middle of the clearing, it was as though a single ray of light shone down from heaven and angels sang softly in the background. Instantly, he'd known it in his heart: _this _was his Christmas tree.

"It's too big," Dale stated plainly, standing in front of the door to the carpentry with heavy arms crossed over his chest.

Luke's eyes dimmed and his grin curled downward, crestfallen. "_What? Whaddaya mean, it's too big?"_

"I mean," Dale explained slowly, "that it's too big."

"But Paaa! It's _perfect!"_

"It also won't fit in our shop." Bo peeked out from behind the burly man and rolled his eyes at Luke.

"We can _make _it fit!" the blue-haired young man cried. "We can work it out!"

Dale sighed and turned back into the shop, closing the door behind him. Dejected, Luke dropped the trunk in the snow and glumly sat down on it, staring mournfully off down the snow-covered trail (that now had a very deep, very jagged trench carved through it from where he'd dragged the heavy tree). Suddenly, his face lit up again at the sight of two familiar figures making their way carefully through the snow. Flinging a gloved hand up in the air, he roared, "HEY, GILL! HEY, ANGELA!"

The figure in the brown waved enthusiastically back, but the blue-clad form seemed to falter. Luke couldn't fathom why. "HEY GILL, DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME? HI!"

Feebly, Gill waved back. Luke leapt up to join them as they slowly approached the carpentry shop and noticed that the blond mayor's son had a rather large, bulky parcel tucked under one arm. "What's that?" he asked, poking it.

Gill wanted to scream. Why did he have such bad luck?

First, he decided to get Angela a decent coat for her next Secret Santa gift—which was embarrassing enough, having to wander around the women's side of the tailor shop with Luna stepping on his heels the whole time, trying to figure out who the coat was for. Then, when he purchased the only one that wasn't entirely pink, he brought it home and couldn't find any wrapping paper. So he brought it to the Inn and Colleen kindly agreed to wrap it for him, and she did a much better job than he would have anyway.

Next, he had to deliver it. He'd already used the "delivery boy" excuse, so he could hardly drop off the gift at Angela's door with it looking as gift-y as it did. So he had to race all the way down to the general store and pick up some brown mailing paper, and rewrapped the package in that. Then, when he'd finally made it to her farm…she was there, in the field, and she'd seen him. Smiled. Waved.

Gritting his teeth, he'd waved back nonchalantly and continued right past her front door, pretending that he had been heading to Garmon Mines the whole time. (Realistically, he was planning on just hanging around the district until Angela had left her farm and gone inside or something, and then he'd drop off the package and make a run for it.) But no, she'd run up and asked who the package was for—he'd lied and said Luke. It was the first name that came to mind. Angela was delighted, because she had to give something to the carpenter as well. Why didn't they go together, she said.

And now, Luke was here asking about the parcel that Gill had said was for him but really wasn't, and Angela was beside him. His mental gears were chugging, but suddenly they snagged and just completely stopped.

"Uh," Gill replied, intelligently.

Angela inadvertently saved him. "Here, Luke—the mayonnaise you wanted. Fresh this morning!"

The carpenter practically went starry-eyed. "Thanks, Ange! I ran out of my last bottle today!"

Gill stepped around them and continued down the path robotically, eyes wide. What did he do now? He couldn't give Luke Angela's present, but that's what she would be expecting him to do…oh maaaan, how was he going to get out of this one?

"Hey Gill," Angela panted, catching up to him and swinging around to face him. "Aren't you going to give Luke th—"

"Shhh!" he hissed, clamping a hand over her mouth. Her brown eyes stared at him in surprise. "He—um, he wasn't…supposed…to—um—find out…?"

"Mmmph!" she said, shaking her head. Gill stared at her fiercely as he heard Luke approaching from behind. Her eyes narrowed, and suddenly, he felt a warm, sticky wetness spreading across his palm.

"—EEWW! Angela!" Quickly he pulled his hand away and wiped it on his pant leg. "Was licking my hand _necessary?"_

"Kind of," she giggled, and then lowered her voice. "Don't worry, I get what you meant. You're Luke's Secret Santa, aren't you?"

Gill stared at her.

"Hey guys, what's all the whispering about?" Luke whined, draping an arm over Gill's shoulder. "Oh, did you see my Christmas tree? !"

"No, Luke," Angela quickly cut in, pushing him gently back towards the tree. "Why don't you show us?" She winked over at the blond as Luke dragged them both back to the carpentry. Gill sighed.

"Here it is!" Luke announced, gesturing at the massive tree lying in the snow.

"It's…" Gill began as he took in the size of the giant cedar.

"…Really big," Angela finished. Luke nodded proudly.

"Yeah! Pops says it's too big but who cares? We'll make it fit somehow."

"How?" Angela asked with interest. "Just cut a few feet of trunk off and trim down the lower branches?"

Luke stared at her like she was crazy. "No way, that's sacrilege! We'll alter the roof, make it higher where the tree's going or something!"

Gill was getting a headache. "Well, good luck with that, Luke. I'm heading back now. Later, Angela."

He only made it a few steps before something grabbed ahold of his coat. "Hang on, why are you going that way?" the farmer asked from behind. "Why don't you just use the railway cart? It'll bring you straight to Harmonica Town; it's way faster."

Gill imagined himself squatting in the cart as it screamed and rattled down the track. He imagined it hitting a rough spot on the bare, stark, exposed cliff side. He imagined himself flying through the air, a hundred thousand feet above the water, and never being heard from again. "No, I think I'll pass."

While he'd been speaking, Angela had slipped her arm around his and linked their elbows, and without realizing it Gill found himself walking towards the rail cart. "I think he's afraid of it," Luke was snickering.

"I am _not_," Gill snapped indignantly. "I just don't think it's…" He trailed off as Angela stopped in front of it and unhooked their arms to clamber in. Once she settled securely in the back of it, she held out her hand to him.

"Coming?" she asked, smiling challengingly.

Gill rose to the challenge. "Fine." Awkwardly, he stepped inside and made the mistake of looking out over the track—

Water. Far below. Far, far, _far _below. Angela pulled him down, and numbly he sat on the brown-wrapped parcel. The blond's stomach dropped and he gripped the sides of the cart with white-knuckled fists as if he could personally hold it onto the track as his eyes stayed glued to the water.

"Alright!" Angela chirped cheerfully, reaching for a lever on the side. "Aaaand…we're off!"

.:.:::.:.

For the first few minutes, the cart sped wildly down the track, taking sharp turns with the cliff face and dipping unexpectedly. Gill roared himself raw as it bumped and shuddered, the wind whipping relentlessly against his face, as Angela laughed openly behind him.

"Put your hands up!" she shouted over the wind.

"ARE YOU INSANE?" he bellowed back, and clasped the cart's rim tighter. He let out a shout as they entered a pitch-black tunnel. "WE'RE DEEEEAADD!"

"No, I'm pretty alive," Angela giggled back. "And—" She tickled the back of his neck, making him jump. "—So are you!"

"NOT FOR LONG! OHMYGODDESS WHAT'S THAT?" Ahead, Gill could see a beam of light approaching terrifyingly fast. Was this the end?

They blasted through it back into daylight; on this side of the tunnel, the rail was smoother and they had a fantastic view of the sea rolling beneath them as they followed the gently turning track. The sight took the blond's breath away.

"That," Angela murmured, closer to his ear than he'd realized, "was the light at the end of the tunnel."

Gill was too mesmerized by basically everything to even muster a snarky reply. All too soon, he realized the cart was slowing, and it ground to a halt in front of a small snowy landing under the Church courtyard.

Angela climbed out over him as he remained sitting in the cart, dazed. "Pretty fun, huh?" she asked, leaning on the rim and grinning at him.

"Huh..? Oh, yeah," he mumbled, blinking. And then he realized he meant it. "Yeah, it—it was fun."

"Once you figured out you weren't going to die, that is," she added coyly. Gill scowled. "But really," she continued, "you've lived here longer than I have. How could you have never ridden the cart before?"

"I _have_," Gill grumbled, finally clambering out after her. He stared as she lay down in the snow and stretched her arms out. "A long time ago."

"When?"

"When I was little." He sat down cross-legged beside her, awkward though she was completely relaxed.

"Why'd you stop?"

"I used to ride it with my mom. She was crazy." Gill glanced at Angela. "Like you." There were a thousand other things he could say about his mother—_she loved tomatoes, gardening, the summertime, she used to bring me out to the sea every day—_but he left it at that.

The farmer was quiet for a long time. "I'm sorry," she finally murmured. It wasn't something that was spoken of often, but even she knew that her friend's mother had died when he was very little.

Gill's nostrils flared. "There's nothing to be sorry for."

"We can change the subject, Gill," she said softly, turning her head to look at him and peering at him from under her lashes. The mayor's son quickly glanced away from her and tried not to think of how pretty she looked with snowflakes in her hair and eyelashes.

Then, he just shrugged. "What about your family?"

Angela looked away and sighed. "I never knew my dad, and I don't really care. He was never part of my life, and now even if I found him, I don't think he'd deserve to be part of it. My mom lives with my little brother in a city far away from here." She held out a hand, cupped it to the sky, caught a few snowflakes as they drifted down. "I send them money whenever I can, because I never grew up with much. I want my brother to have a better childhood than I did."

For a while, they were both quiet. Gill really didn't know what to say: she'd always seemed so carefree and upbeat, he'd always imagined she came from some cozy upper-middle-class family. But, he supposed everyone had their secrets.

And yet, here she was, taking on Castanet's problems. He'd heard four of the bells ring already. Clearing his throat, he mumbled, "Ah…you've been doing a really good job, you know..Angela."

Her entire face lit up. "Thanks, Gill. You know…I always thought you hated me, ever since you came back, and I always wanted to change that. You're the only one who I could ever talk to about sprites, and the bells, and the goddess, but you never acknowledged me."

"That was a mistake," Gill replied, with a sincerity that startled himself.

Angela grinned and stretched. "Well anyway, I should get on my way. Stuff to do." She pulled herself to her feet and brushed the snow from her now-soaked jeans. "Bye, Gill. This was fun, we should hang out again sometime!"

The mayor's son watched her scamper up the stone stairway to the courtyard and wondered how he could ever have been so stupid. This whole time, he'd been missing out on Angela.

He'd make up for lost time.


	5. Inexpressibility

**A/N: Just a short little chapter, more just to let you guys know I'm still alive and haven't forgotten about this story. Just been busy! Would have written more but ran out of time. Thanks for your patience c:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harvest Moon.**

* * *

><p>It was a beautiful snowy morning at the Sundae Inn, where five girls gathered together to breakfast and gossip and s-l-o-w-l-y decide on their food…much to a certain blonde waitress's chagrin.<p>

"You girls ready yet?" Maya chirped, tapping her notebook with the tip of her pen and rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

Kathy sighed and put down her menu. "Is there anything here that's not swimming in cheese? Cheese is so fattening." She let out a tragic, gusty sigh. "I always gain so much weight in the winter…"

Maya began tapping her foot impatiently. Angela chewed the inside of her lip and glanced at Candace. "Candy, you ready?" The blunette nodded and looked to her sister.

"So am I…" Luna said, and all three of them turned to stare at Renee, who was hiding behind her menu. The brunette peeked timidly over it at them and then nodded sheepishly.

"Guess I'm ready…"

"Great!" Maya shouted eagerly. "What can I get you?"

"Hey!" Kathy whined. "I'm not—"

"Kath, you always take forever and the only way to make you pick is to rush you. _So, _I will have the Belgian waffle with strawberries!" Luna declared, handing her menu to the waitress.

"I'll just have oatmeal…" Candace murmured. "Please."

"I'd like the cooked salmon, please!" Renee said.

"Could I just get the eggs benedict?" Angela asked.

"Check-checkity-check!" Maya exclaimed, scribbling down their orders. Then she turned to Kathy with pursed lips. "And for Kathy?"

"Um…uh…I want…oh, I'll have a cheese omelet!" the blonde exclaimed, flustered. As the waitress whisked their menus away, Kathy sank slowly in her chair. "Darn it! Cheese omelet? What was I thinking? You rushed me, I hate you guys. Now I'm gonna get fat."

Angela grinned and waved off her friend's complaint. "So, it's been awhile since we've had breakfast together! What's been going on with you girls?"

"Candace and Julius went on a date," Luna said smugly, grinning darkly at the hurriedly-flushing blunette.

"It was _not _a date!" she protested in embarrassment, pressing both hands to her cheeks to hide her blush. "It was a _walk_…"

"On the beach…in the moonlight…" Luna added, her smile creeping ever wider across her face.

Renee laughed. "Oh, leave her alone, you demon. Let's talk about the secret Santa event instead!"

"Ughh…" Kathy groaned, sinking lower yet. "Is it torture-Kathy-day? I'm _so _sick of this topic. It's all anyone ever talks about in the bar!"

"As a matter of fact, it _is _torture-Kathy-day!" Angela declared cheerfully. "Chocolate! Cocktails! Secret Santa! Cheeeeese omelets! Owen~"

"Shut up, Angela!" the ponytailed blonde laughed, teasingly aiming a fork at the farmer's head. Angela only grinned.

"But I wanna talk about this!" Luna whined. "What have you girls got so far?"

There was a pause as everyone looked at each other expectantly. Finally, Kathy spoke up: "I got a horse-patterned neckerchief."

"Cute!" Luna commented. "What else?"

"And…this pretty crystal wine glass…with a horse painted on it."

"…Hm," Renee said. "Sounds like whoever has you only knows you like horses."

"And alcohol," Angela added, running her finger along the rim of her milk glass. "What about you, Ren?"

The farmer girl ran a hand through her short, smooth hair. "Well…I got one of those singing fish plaques."

Everyone at the table burst out laughing. "_What?" _gasped Luna between giggles. "What kind of a gift is _that?"_

"I think it's great," Angela chuckled, wiping a fake tear away from her eye. "I really hope nobody here has anybody else here, and we're laughing at their gifts…"

This brought another round of laughter to the table. "Oh, that would be so embarrassing…" Candace grinned.

"Yeah," Renee giggled. "So, that, and I got a cute little fishing lure of a goldfish."

"That's cute," Kathy supplied.

"What fish would go after a goldfish?" Angela wondered. "Isn't that kind of cannibalistic?"

"But, like Kathy's person, whoever has you only knows you like fishing…" Luna pointed out.

"Hm…yeah. What've you got, Angela?" the brunette asked her fellow farmer.

Angela let out a short laugh. "Well, the first week, I got scented candles."

"Oooh, romantic," Kathy smirked, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Luna rolled her eyes. "Hardly."

"Yeah, seemed to me more like the emergency I-don't-know-what-else-to-get-her emergency girl-gift," Angela smiled.

"True," the blonde acknowledged, tilting her head slightly. "Gawdess, I'm hungry."

"What else, Ang?" Luna pressed.

"Oh, well…" the brunette paused and lifted a pretty, cream-coloured, downy button-up coat from the back of her chair. "This! It's the nicest coat I've ever owned. Somebody loves me!"

Amid the other girls' praise, Luna's eyes widened as she stared at the coat. That, she knew, had been bought directly from the tailor's.

She'd sold it.

_To Angela's Secret Santa - who?_

This was going to drive her _crazy_.

.:.:::.:.

"Two tickets to Toucan Island?" Ozzie actually cracked open an eye to stare out at Gill. "Two? You bringing someone with ya, lad?"

The mayor's son sighed rigidly. _Relax. Yes, he's nosy and yes, it's annoying, but that's no reason to lose it. _"No, Osmond." (The word 'Ozzie' had never passed Gill's lips.) "I am not bringing someone with me."

As the fisherman totaled the price, he pressed on, clearly not believing the blond. "Are ya's eloping?"

"…No, Osmond. I'm just going to Toucan Island."

"With someone. When was the wedding? Or are ya's having it on the Island?"

"There is no wedding, Osmond. I am just. Going. To. Toucan. Island."

"Ya take up two tickets, son?"

Gill's nostrils flared. "How do you know I'm not just going twice, and buying a ticket in advance?"

"Wintertime's a good time to carry a bride off to Toucan Island. How long's ya stayin'?" Ozzie handed the bill and the tickets to Gill, who signed it quickly and tucked the tickets into his pocket in one swift movement before turning to leave.

"A _day!_" he half-snarled, his back already turned to the older man.

"Well, that's hardly a honeymoon. Won't your honey be a little put out with you? At least spend the night in the hotel there—"

"Good_bye_, Osmond. Thank you for the tickets. I'm not getting married."

"I wish you both all the best in your new life together!" Ozzie called at Gill's retreating back. The door to the fishery slammed shut and Ozzie sat back behind the counter, pulling out his favourite nail file. _Well_, he thought, _there's one I never thought to see settle down with someone what could stand him. Good for the lad!_

.:.:::.:.

**A/N: These scenes will be important in later chapters! :)**

**Anyway, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed. I am open to any and all comments/critiques. Aaah, this story probably only has like 2 or 3 more chapters to go... :S**

**Hope to see you in chapter 6!**


	6. Stability

**A/N: Sorry for the wait (again). I've started university this year and am now more strapped for time than ever! I was just thinking today how I started this story last December and hoped to have it finished before Christmas.**

**...LOOOOOOL**

**Okay. Hope you enjoy! I don't own Harvest Moon.**

* * *

><p><em>What a beautiful day…to ditch this island and go to the beach, <em>Gill mused, his warm breath fogging up the window pane as he stared out into the blustery winter morning. He unrolled his cuffs and straightened the collar of his coat, quickly slipping a hand inside the pocket of his dress pants to ensure he hadn't lost the ferry ticket. Good—it was still there.

His stomach did a somersault and Gill grimaced. He was so nervous about seeing her that—that he almost wanted to avoid it altogether. But how lame was that?

Hopefully, she had seen the expiry date on the second ticket he'd bought; the one he'd made her next Secret Santa gift. (He'd written it on the ticket himself, just to ensure they would both go to Toucan Island the same day, but...she didn't have to know that.) Hopefully, she was free today. Hopefully she would go and hopefully they would run into each other—

The blond's forehead creased as his stomach performed more impressive acrobatic feats of surpassing ability. Hopefully…she wouldn't think he was a creepy stalker, always ending up everywhere she went. _Ugh…what are you, a man or a prepubescent wimp with a crush? Seriously, grow a backbone. _

Stepping into his boots, Gill wiped his brow. Great, he was sweating. What a lady-killer.

As he reached a gloved hand out to open his front door, it swung open in his face, blasting him with a torrent of icy snow-encrusted wind. He staggered backward, and a hand reached forward…caught his elbow…

…but not fast enough. Gill landed on his bum with a heavy thud. "Ow," he grunted, squinting upwards through his snowy eyelashes to stare down the guilty party.

"Whoops!" chortled Hamilton, resting a pudgy hand on his portly belly as it shook gently with his laughter. "Never stand behind a door, son!"

Gill's eyes narrowed. "Not even if you intend to go through it in a matter of seconds?"

His father ignored him, instead dropping a bulging, exceedingly poorly-wrapped gift into the young man's lap. "For you, Gilly-Wiggins! Isn't this Secret Santa business fun? !"

Rolling his eyes, the mayor's son pulled himself to his feet and tore open the gift. It was, to everyone's surprise and confusion, a bunch of bright yellow bananas.

Hamilton was the first to speak. Wetting his lips, he said, "…Bananas. Well! Doesn't Angela grow bananas on her farm?"

"…It's winter, Father."

"Oh, yes. Of course."

The two continued to stare at the odd gift before Hamilton merely shrugged his shoulders and disappeared into his room, presumingly to do mayorly things.

Gill readjusted his coat, triple-checked for the ticket in his pocket, and made a second attempt to go through the front door (this one more successful). He was mere steps into the snowy courtyard outside his house when he froze with a sudden realization –

What if the bananas were from Toucan Island, from Angela, and she was trying to give him a hint as to her identity? A _message?_

It would make sense, seeing as he'd received mayonnaise from her farm before…

Was Angela _his _Secret Santa, too?

Gill shook his head, clenching his teeth against the cold of the day. It was possible, he supposed; anyway, he'd know soon enough, at the Great Reveal. Right now, he had a tropical island to go to and a girl to "accidentally" run into.

.:.:::.:.

Angela sat on her small bed, tucked into the farthest (and most mildew-y) corner of her room, and drew her knees up to her chin. Her toes scrunched up in silent delight at the newest gift from her Secret Santa: a ticket to Toucan Island! She was _so _excited to go somewhere and just have a relaxing day to herself. Sure, she should _probably _be working in the mines or something to pull in a little extra cash, but hey—even she needed a break once in a while.

She turned the ticket over in her hand, her brow furrowing as she reread the handwritten expiry date on the back. Since when did these tickets even expire? Oh well; it didn't really matter. This one expired today and she intended to use it.

.:.:::.:.

Kathy stood outside the Brass Bar with Selena, flicking her eyes critically up and down the dancer's scantily-clad frame. Resting her hand on her hip, she asked baldly, "Do you want to go inside, put some clothes on, and _then _come back out?"

Selena narrowed her mascara-laden eyes at her blonde friend. "_No_. I _am_ wearing clothes and they're _fine, _thank you."

"Whatever." The waitress leaned against the building and crossed her arms. "You're lucky it stopped snowing though, or you'd be an exotic ice sculpture by now."

The redhead huffed impatiently. "You're lucky I like you, or I'd have punched you by now."

"Aww," Kathy grinned, tousling Selena's hair playfully. "You love me."

Selena leaned back beside Kathy. "I hate winter. I hate the cold. I hate snow. Why does snow exist? It sucks."

"You suck," Kathy returned amiably. "Maybe if you wore clothes, it wouldn't bother you as much."

"You're one to talk," a teasing voice interrupted.

Both girls leaned forward and smiled to see Angela walking towards them across the small bridge from the direction of the tailor's. She waved and grinned back.

"You're a jerk, Ang," Kathy told her as she approached, and shook her fist in mock anger at the farmer. "I dress just fine for this weather!"

Angela laughed. "Well, at least you ditched the skirt and put some pants on…but you," she said, turning to Selena, "are a different story."

Selena rolled her eyes and grinned. "Whatever, Farmer Jane…it's not my fault winter's so cold…"

"Do you even own a coat?" Kathy asked.

"Shut up, Kath. You suck," was Selena's barbed reply.

"Testy, testy," Angela laughed. "What put you in such a mood?"

Selena spread her arms impatiently. "This snow! Winter everywhere! It's always so cold and there's no escape from it, it's even cold inside and you have to light _fires indoors _just so that nobody freezes to death. It's ridiculous! Where's the sun? !"

"Beating down on Toucan Island," Angela declared airily. And she was going to enjoy every second of it. Kathy grinned and nodded, but Selena only wrapped her arms more tightly around herself and pressed her underdressed body against the wall of the Inn without a word.

_Oh_, Angela suddenly realized, regarding her friend sympathetically. _She's…she's homesick. _The farmer stepped forward to rest a compassionate hand on the dancer's shoulder. She could feel goosebumps on her cold skin through the thin fabric of her top. "Selena, why don't you visit home for just a day? Forget your pride for a minute. Your family must miss you too."

The redhead mumbled something that Angela couldn't quite catch. She leaned closer, and Selena cleared her throat to repeat herself. "I…can't afford to. Living in a hotel is expensive."

And that's when the farmer's heart really went out to the dancer. She understood completely what it meant to want something so badly that it hurt, but to be restricted by money. Fingering the ticket in her pocket, Angela hesitated for only a second and pulled it out. "Hey, I have a ferry ticket here. It expires today, so you better get going, girl."

Her eyes wide, Selena glanced up at her friend. "But it's yours! You—you mean it?"

"Of course," the brunette smiled, placing the little slip in the dancer's hand. "You need it more than I do."

.:.:::.:.

Gill stood ankle-deep in the warm seawater, scrunching his toes into the soft sand as the water tickled them. He heard the waves churning far off to his left as the ferry boat pulled into dock, and his stomach twisted nervously. That should be Angela's boat.

He'd made sure to get there as early as possible to be prepared for her arrival—his clothes just rumpled enough to look casual, though he'd ironed them fresh that morning; his pants rolled up just above the ankles to stay dry but look neatly non-fussy; his blond hair tousled slightly from the breeze, but still mostly tidy; his scattered nerves bunched into a tight, careful bundle. All systems go.

Impressions were everything, but why did he care so much about the ones he made on her? When had he ever tried so hard to make it look like he hadn't tried so hard?

The ferry's bells clanged. Gill kept his eyes casually trained on the sea. He heard Pascal's jovial voice, a burst of laughter, and a woman's reply.

A woman that didn't sound like Angela.

The mayor's son finally glanced over toward the dock to see Pascal helping that dancer girl from the Inn—Céline? Selena—down from the boat. She bounced happily down the wooden stairs and bounded off towards the island inn, kicking up clouds of sand in her delighted wake.

Gill stared after her, then turned back to stare at Pascal, who reclined against his ferry chewing the stem of his pipe. He seemed to have no intentions of cruising back to Castanet to pick up a certain farmer girl. Gill hurriedly made his way over, peering up the dock anxiously at the captain. "Excuse me, err, Pascal? Were you...Was there going to be another ferry here from Harmonica Town, later today, perhaps?"

Pascal removed the pipe from his mouth and regarded Gill brightly. "Ah, Mr. Gill! You usually don't stay long on the sands, aye? Were ya lookin' to head back soon?"

"Well, that really depends," the blond replied tersely. "Do you think you'll be bringing anyone else here today?"

The captain adjusted the brim of his hat. "No, lad. I post my hours outside the fish monger. This was my last ferry today." Gill's shoulders visibly sagged. Pascal resumed chewing the pipe, not removing his gaze from the blond's face. "You look relatively non-fussy. Hopin' to meet someone special here?"

Gill winced at the friendly assault on his usual spic-and-span appearance. "I guess it was a little much to hope."

"Ah." Pascal chewed pensively for another moment. "Don't feel down, lad. I'm sure she'll come around. A special lady is never too much to hope for." At Gill's silence, the sea captain quickly added, "It _is _a lady you're waitin' on, aye? No judgment or anythin'..."

Gill quickly waved away the older man's doubts. "Yes, yes, I mean, of course she's a girl. And she didn't exactly stand me up. She... I mean...she didn't exactly know we were going to meet up yet..."

Pascal took a long inhale from his pipe, his puzzled eyes never wavering from Gill's face. "Ehhrrr...okay. You'll be wantin' to head back now, then?"

The mayor's son nodded fervently and loaded himself on the ferry, thanking Pascal profusely. The captain shook his head and grinned as he followed the boy on board. "Kids these days. Not even planning dates anymore and wonderin' why they can't get girlfriends."

.:.:::.:.

Angela jumped at the sudden knocking on her door, painting a neat line of bright turquoise toenail polish across the top of her foot. "_Drat_," she murmured, rubbing at it with a finger and then realizing she was only making it worse. With a sigh, she swung her legs over the bed and onto the floor, and made her way to the door as quickly as she could while making sure none of her toes squished into each other and ruined her otherwise fairly awesome painting job.

Opening the flakily-painted door, the brunette was met with a harsh gust of snowy evening air and- even more startling-Gill. "Wha...Gill? Hi! You must be freezing, come on in!"

Without giving him a chance to react, she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him inside her small house, which, while being poorly insulated and even more unstable, still offered some relief from the bare elements. "Oh," Gill stammered, amazed at being inside Angela's House. "Th-thanks."

"Have a seat!" Angela continued, pulling out an old chair from the table. "I apologize for the smell, I was just painting my toenails. Hot drink?"

"Please," the blond managed, before taking her up on her offer and plunking his nearly-frozen bum down on the hard chair. By now, he was becoming quickly disenchanted with her house; it was just as rough-looking from the inside as the outside suggested. The creaking of wooden beams against the harsh wind was particularly unsettling. "Does it...er...always do that?"

"What?" asked the farmeress from her kitchen, which Gill noted was _puny. _

"The wind."

"...Blow? Yeah, Gill, it has a habit of doing that. Personally, I can't imagine what else it would do with its time if it couldn't blow around and stuff." She sounded amused as she dropped a tea bag into a kettle. "I hope tea's okay with you?"

Gill sighed inwardly. In Town Hall, he was highly professional, capable, efficient, and _intelligent. _Yet at the moment he sounded like a complete halfwit. "Tea sounds great, thanks. And, er, I meant your house. Does it always creak?"

"Oh." Angela sat down across from him with a sigh and checked her toenails. "Yeah, it...yeah. It needs some fixing up still, I know."

"Ah," Gill answered. He tapped a nervous finger on the table. "So, ah, I suppose you're wondering what brought me here."

The farmer looked up at him with wide, surprised brown eyes. The warm light of the lamp above the table cast shadows of her eyelashes across her cheeks prettily. "Well...no, I figured this was just a friendly call, actually."

Gill blinked at her. "Huh? You mean, just to talk?"

"Yeah, well, that's what I thought. But I guess with you, everything has to relate to some form of business or another, huh?" She smiled at him and leaned both elbows on the table. "So what's up, then?"

"Well, uh...I guess it was just a friendly call, kind of. I wanted to ask how winter was going for you." Gill shifted in his seat, feeling foolish for thinking he needed a reason for visiting her. _We're friends. She even said we should hang out sometime._

To his surprise, the question dragged a long sigh out of the usually cheerful farmer as she rose to tend to the tea. "It's alright, thanks. I mean, I do prefer the warmer months. And I'm missing not being able to grow anything but a few paltry stalks of buckwheat. My animals miss being able to be outside most days, and having them cooped up inside means more cleaning work for me. But it's not all bad; I mean, the scenery is beautiful, the air is fresh, the sea is magnificent, and...who wants to worry about crops all year, anyway?" She set a mug of steaming tea in front of him. "Cream, sugar?"

"Thank you. And neither, thanks." Gill took a slurp and winced as it burned its way down his throat. "That sounds like a lot to contend with."

"Well, in a way." She sat down and dumped sugar and milk into her drink. "There's also the whole deal with the Goddess, but I think I've got most of that under control."

"Mm." Gill took another sip, slower this time. "You're working on the last bell, right?"

Angela perked up. "Yes! Jeez, I'm so glad I finally have someone I can talk to about this. I mean, there's the Wizard, of course, but all we do is sit on his couch and drink coffee and flip through his notebook of constellations...well, that's what I do, anyway. He just pores over his telescope or crystal ball. ...Gill, I don't even _like_ coffee."

Gill laughed and ignored the strange twinge in his chest at the thought of her spending time with another guy. "He seems like an interesting character. You know...I want to formally apologize, too. The reason I left was to try to find a cure for this dying island, my dying hometown. And you just breeze in and..." he gestured vaguely. "Just...clean up shop. I didn't know what to make of you, at first."

"Is that why you avoided me?" Angela peered seriously at him over her mug. Gill's stomach picked up where it had left that morning's gymnastics routine at the sight of those brown eyes.

"Yes," he finally admitted. "Well, that and-I was kind of jealous, too. I thought I was going to be the one to save the Goddess and restore Castanet to its former glory. I thought it was my right and duty, having grown up here, and being its future mayor. I worked my butt off to do everything I could think of, but the Sprites didn't appear to me anymore...and then you show up and within a year have rung all the bells but one. It was sort of hard for my pride, I guess, to swallow. This mainlander coming in and accomplishing more than I could my whole life. So, I'm truly sorry for treating you badly, and I hope you can accept my apology."

Angela regarded him for a moment, then reached a hand across the table to squeeze his. Gill tensed. Her hand was warm and soft in places, calloused in others by seasons of hard labour. "Hey," she said softly, "I'm sorry that you worked so hard for no reward, but it really does mean something. You'll be an amazing mayor because you're willing to dedicate so much of yourself to bettering this town, and that's a wonderful thing."

"Th-thank you," Gill stammered. He was grateful for the darkening of the skies and the resulting darker house; hopefully Angela wouldn't be able to see the warm blush rising on his cheeks.

She gave his hand one final squeeze and folded her fingers together. "I could use your help, though."

Gill nodded. "Sure."

"What do you wish for?"

The blond blinked back at the farmer's earnest face. "What do I wish for..? What do you mean?"

She sat back and shrugged. "Anything in this world. If you could have any one wish, what would you choose? And it can't be more wishes!"

Gill grinned and took a thoughtful sip of tea. What would he wish for? It would have to be meaningful, not just buckets of money or something stupid, like instant fame. Something that would mean something to him.

What was important to him now?

Maybe he could bring his mother back...

No. A wish like that would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He should make a wish that would benefit many people, not just himself and his father. What was most important to him?

He cleared his throat. "My wish would be to make this town a great place to live, where everyone is safe and happy. And I want the town to prosper for as long as it stands."

Angela smiled. "That's a lovely wish, Gill. Thank you."

The blond smiled too, but down into his mug of tea. He felt very warm inside. "What would you wish for, Angela?"

She was quiet for a long time. After several minutes, Gill looked up at her to make sure she was even still listening, and saw her thoughtfully stirring what was left of her lukewarm tea in the mug. "Angela?"

"Oh...sorry. I was just trying to think of how to word it." The farmer shifted in her creaking chair and sighed. "I've thought about this a lot, even though I know my own wish doesn't count. You know, I'm not really sure. There's just so much, you know? I really wish I had a good answer for you, but-"

"Final answer?" Gill interrupted teasingly. "You'd wish for a better answer?"

The farmer laughed. "Noo! I take it back! I repent! But seriously, I'll have to get back to you on that. Sorry..."

Gill drained his mug. "No worries." He paused. "Not everyone can come up with impressive on-the-spot remarks like I can, after all."

Angela stared at him in surprise for a beat before bursting out in laughter. "You're making fun of yourself! Wow. The things I've learned, and it's only been like twenty minutes!"

Gill started to grin, and then paused. "Wait. What? What have you learned? You mean my wish?"

Angela wiggled her eyebrows at him mysteriously and took a deep drink of tea.

Gill's nostrils flared. "You haven't been analyzing me, have you?"

"You'll never know..."

"Maybe you should wish for a new house," Gill suggested cattily.

Angela smirked and rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

.:.:::.:.

By the time Gill left Angela's rundown farmhouse, quite late in the evening, he had a brilliant (albeit expensive) idea for her greatest and final Secret Santa gift. She may not focus her wish on a decent house, but she deserved one.

And she was going to get one.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading! Feel free to drop me a review on your way out. ^^ Have a great day.**


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